


Prison of Sleep Deeper Down

by BobIsBadAtWriting, just_kiss_already



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobIsBadAtWriting/pseuds/BobIsBadAtWriting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/just_kiss_already
Summary: Detective Matt Murdock of the NYPD is assigned to work with a prototype android, the Bio-Inspired Universal Cybernetic-Kit Epsilon, or BUC-KE.





	Prison of Sleep Deeper Down

**Author's Note:**

> Okay trying this again. Rewritten from Matt’s perspective, it flowed much better. Please forgive any errors! Thank you for reading!!!

Detective Matthew Murdock watches his new assignment walk into the bullpen. His eyes, cheap cybernetic ocular implants from his childhood, are permanently set to heat-sensing and the NYPD doesn’t pay enough to merit repairing them, so in a room bathed in melting hues of blues and reds and greens he sees one ordinary-looking human—Corporal Rumlow--and one android, a burningly yellow head and torso surrounded by cold violet limbs. He’s never seen an android in person, they were developed for war, so he didn’t know what to expect. Humans with cybernetic prosthetics tend to be uncommon enough around here; most folks Matt encounters opt for old-fashioned metal and plastic.

Earlier, Matt tried to argue his way out of this assignment once again, putting his law classes to good use. His captain, Brett Mahoney, did not give one shit about what Matt wanted, though, and told him so. Invoking their long-standing acquaintance since childhood seemed to make the situation worse somehow. Captain Mahoney had said in no uncertain terms that Matt was the best candidate to be shadowed by the prototype civilian android considering his, as Brett put it, “difficulties.” An attempt at delicately telling Matt he’s a liability, even though he solves just as many cases as the other detectives, often with assistance from his implants. Matt couldn’t exactly tell Brett about all the implants, the improved hearing and smell; those were entirely off the books and for reasons that would send Matt off the force straight to a jail cell.

Having this new partner was definitely going to curtail those activities.

The sounds that precede the android are fascinating. Some are loud enough for human ears to hear, shifting plates mostly, harmonic. Below that, Matt can hear the sound of motors, whine of hydraulics, running fluid, soft crackle of electricity. The brush of fabric against soft plastic, artificial skin. According to the captain, the android has the appearance of a person, complete with hair. The combat models overseas are rarely given such luxuries, the more inhuman and frightening they look the better. 

Matt and Captain Mahoney met with representatives from the United States Army Combat Capabilities Development Command and from AccuTech a month back. The army developed their combat androids two decades ago and recently contracted AccuTech to work on recoding, making it safer to be around them. AccuTech had to figure out how to code the concept of specific dangerous jobs and any related skills that might be needed; the technical handler from AccuTech, Zola, explained it as the core thought being firefighting with different strands of thought including safety, how to handle a hose, etc. Even bravery. The department’s Information Technology Bureau officer had nodded sagely, but Matt could hear his heart galloping with confusion and anxiety.

Corporal Rumlow stops in front of Matt’s desk, smiling as indicated by the growing shape of green on his face. “Well, detective, here it is. Your new pal. Say hello to the Bio-Inspired Universal Cybernetic-Kit Epsilon, or BUC-KE. The most advanced technology you’ll ever see in your life.”

“You named it ‘Bucky?’” Matt asks, irritated by the Rumlow’s superior tone.

Jaw tensing if the sound of his teeth creaking is anything to go by, Rumlow stands up straighter. “An acronym, blame AccuTech. Army just calls it a weapon. It’s all in the manual, should be on your StarkPad.”

Great, a manual Matt won’t be able to read. Maybe he can call Foggy-

Matt realizes the android has turned its head to face him. A small shiver runs up his back, the hairs at his nape stand on end. Something about being scrutinized by a sentient weapon that has been in a warzone and survived is unsettling.

Meanwhile, Rumlow presses on, either ignoring the movement or ignorant of it. “BUC-KE, Administrator Brock Rumlow voice command: add user Matthew Murdock. Elevate to administrator.”

(admin> useradd: Murdock, Matthew Michael. Detective)

“Alright, I guess that’s it. The equipment was delivered yesterday, right? Mahoney’s been briefed on what to do in case of any problems, you’ve got my number and Zola’s number on your pad. In three days you’ll escort it to the New York AccuTech office for assessment and lubricant dialysis.” Rumlow shifts his weight, hesitating, something is keeping him here. Matt wishes he’d just leave already. And take the android with him. “Listen, between you and me, this thing is fucking important, like federal crime if it’s damaged important. More important than either of us. Cost a shit-ton of money. Text me the minute there’s even a hint of a problem. Don’t even think, don’t try to troubleshoot. Text me and Zola. Got it?”

“Got it,” Matt replies, trying hard to keep the anger out of his voice. He didn’t even want this damn assignment. This burden.

Rumlow’s voice goes dark, all gravel and threat. “You got it?” he repeats, emphatic.

That’s enough. He’s not going to let some power-drunk grunt treat him like an idiot. Like trash. “If that’s all, corporal, I’m going to go ahead and show Bucky to the apartment and then get back to work.” Matt stands and folds his arms, keeping his face as neutral and uninterested as possible. Won’t let Rumlow have the satisfaction of seeing him react.

(admin> rename = [target: self] : Bucky)

Rumlow gives an insolent little salute and walks away, doesn’t even acknowledge the android. In fact, it’s been so still, Matt forgot it was there for a minute. 

Is he supposed to treat it like an object? Like a person? Rumlow definitely did not see Bucky as anything more than a weapon, he made that abundantly clear in the meeting. And its unusual appearance due to its zones of heat and cold make it easy to forget it looks like a person. Matt can hear hair brush its shoulders, the rustle of its jacket as the chest rises and falls with simulated breath though there is no rushing air noise to accompany it. Probably another feature designed to make people more comfortable around it.

Him. It? Neither felt right.

“I guess it’s time we go then,” Matt suggests. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to give commands the way Rumlow did. He doesn’t know any of the terminology.

Bucky lifts its head and nods, once.

Apparently talking to it like a person is just fine. Thankfully.

Bucky remains one step behind and to the left of Matt and walks in precise lockstep, which grates on his nerves as he struggles to block it out. Sometimes new stimuli is harder to ignore and he’s hyperaware of everything the android does. On the elevator, Bucky remains behind him, hands loosely at its side, and Matt practices his meditative breathing. This is not going to work.

The equipment desk is one hallway over from the officers’ entrance. Matt doesn’t recognize the officer manning it so he just smiles and places his finger on the pad where a pleasant stilted voice thanks him for his service.

“Murdock,” the officer mutters, quickly scanning over the information on his screen. “You exceeded your quota of EnviroTect gear again, Murdock,” the officer says in an unfriendly voice. He reaches for something and Matt hears Bucky tense, the creak and hiss of mechanical parts readying. Matt throws a glance over his shoulder at it, but the android looks the same. “This is gonna come out of your pay.” He hands Matt a clear poncho through the window.

Due to pollution and rampant disease, air quality is extremely poor, has been for a century now. People don’t dare go out without removable protection anymore. The NYPD has an agreement with the company EnviroTect, they supply cleaners, recyclers, and printers to the department. If a poncho is still usable, it can be decontaminated. If it’s too damaged, it’s recycled and a new one is printed. Matt’s extracurricular activities are rough on them, though, and he can’t afford to buy his own, so for a few years now he’s been exceeding his allocated limit by three or four. Brett looks the other way out of courtesy. Probably chalks it up to Matt’s “difficulties.”

Matt pulls his face mask out and starts to slide it over his head before he realizes Bucky isn’t dressing. 

“You don’t have anything to cover up with?”

Bucky blinks and Matt realizes the android doesn’t do it very often. “Artificial skin is graded for combat, sir. This unit doesn’t require protective gear.” The voice is incredibly human, slightly accented, hard to place. Who on earth programmed an accent? The sound of that voice, male, soft, the way its mouth shapes the syllables, is incredible. It would definitely fool most people. But the lack of any comfortingly human sounds ruins the effect. No messy digestive sounds, no teeth grinding or foot tapping or finger twitching, no sinus blockage or creaking bones. Just the sound of technology.

Unnerved, Matt pulls his mask and poncho on and heads towards the doors, Bucky’s footsteps so precisely timed that they’re almost masked by the sound of Matt’s boots.

They step into four inches of water. A hurricane is approaching, the normally light rain that always falls has become a downpour and the streets are flooded despite the sea walls surrounding the coast. Most buildings have large makeshift canopies that cover the entirety of the sidewalks, made out of scrap metal and cardboard and plastic, anything easily scavenged. The roads are uncovered; if someone can afford a vehicle, they can afford the cost of upkeep.

Matt pauses like he always does when exiting a building, cocking his head, listening. Officers talking, their radios bleating codes, people nearby speaking under their breaths and scurrying past the station. The police aren’t exactly well-liked, too many take advantage of their authority, they’re to be feared and avoided. For a second, Matt wonders if maybe an android police force might not be better, one without self-interest, following the law to the letter. Matt lets his hearing expand, feels the tiny vibrations of the device in his ear canals shifting. No screaming, no gunshots, no begging. At least for the time being. He can proceed home without the strangling guilt of ignoring those in need.

Beside him, Bucky remains still, not questioning the odd behavior. Matt’s thankful. They set off in the direction of his apartment, sloshing through the water.

“They dropped off your equipment, including something that seems to be a huge… cubicle? It has some kind of ledge in it that’s big enough to sit on. I didn’t investigate too much, I didn’t want to snoop.” Matt says, trying to make conversation. He’s obviously the only that feels the silence is uncomfortable, but knowing that doesn’t help.

“It’s your equipment, Detective Murdock, as is this unit. That is the charging station where this unit must remain for six hours every night or until fully charged.” Bucky’s voice remains calm even when discussing its own status as nothing more than an object.

Matt frowns. Hearing that voice say those things, it’s not right. “It’s your equipment,” he corrects. “It belongs to you.”

(admin> change owner = [ref. manual 3.281.17]: self)

Bucky’s foot comes down out of sync and it’s so jarring Matt slows down. Bucky mimics him properly this time and doesn’t even acknowledge the misstep, so Matt shrugs it off. It’s almost soothing, in a way, to know that even this piece of sophisticated technology isn’t flawless.

“Apartment’s up ahead,” Matt says. “It’s kind of hard to miss. At least the rent is cheap.”

The street his apartment is on is lined with advertisements, electronic billboards and holograms and even entire building-sides lit up, flashing and sparkling in the gloom of evening. Dazzling color and the clash of endless voices. While Matt doesn’t see the colors or the free-standing projections, he sees the warmth of the digital displays; according to visitors’ descriptions, he has the better end of the bargain. 

“It doesn’t keep you awake?” Bucky asks, startling Matt. This is the first time the android spoke without prompting.

“No, thankfully. I can’t see what’s on screens. My implants only see heat.”

They walk for a minute more. At the door to the building, Matt presses his hand to the grimy pad installed outside. He hates it, can’t help but think of all the diseases he could be picking up, but the building owner is too cheap to buy a new touchless one. Once inside, each apartment has a mailbox and a locker on the first floor; Matt hangs his poncho up inside and presses the button that activates a fan to speed up drying. Or is supposed to activate it. Broken again.

Bucky’s head is swiveling, taking in the foyer, Matt can hear his actuators humming. “This unit can read the manual to you,” the android says, once again unprompted. 

It takes a moment for Matt to catch up. He can’t see screens, Bucky’s manual is digital. It’s probably critical that all his handlers know the manual backwards and forwards, Matt surmises. “That could work.”


End file.
